The farm wife looks up at the cosmos

When it’s too nice to nap indoors, I take an old knotted comforter to the back edge of the garden, near tomato leaves I crush for a last whiff of summer. Crickets chorus round me and the combine’s racket turns to a purr the barn cats pick up, settling near my head. It’s then I look up at the cosmos, struck by their petals, mandarin orange against blue sky. The underside shines radiant as monarch wings or the stained glassof sun through tissue paper. Restingby County Road N 400 W, I forgetlaundry on the line, supper to fix. For hours I’ve been napping. Now I am awake.